


He Asked Me What's Your Flavor

by masseylass



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Cigarettes, Dirty Talk, Drugs, Drunk Sex, Humiliation, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, Knifeplay, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Penis In Vagina Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 11:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21098993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masseylass/pseuds/masseylass
Summary: Hancock's little vaultsicle thinks he's going to have a relaxing night of chem-use and light bondage. Instead, he gets something a little more...elaborate. (I've already written it, there's no going back! Happy Kinktober!)





	He Asked Me What's Your Flavor

I was always a take-charge kind of guy out there in the wasteland. Over a year had gone by since I left Vault 111. Considering my entire life was taken away from me the day the bombs fell, I made sure nothing like that would ever happen again. That’s why I counted my ammo like I counted my caps; it’s why I always kept a couple extra rounds tucked into the back of my glove; it’s why I knew when to keep my mouth shut and when to talk back to assholes who thought they could walk all over people. So when Hancock blindfolded me and lead me out of the Old State House, I felt helpless. 

Anyone else and I would have said fuck that. But Hancock? We had an arrangement, an arrangement involving some deep-seated trust and a little BDSM. 

“Gonna tell me where we’re going?” I asked, as the mayor carefully led me down the steps and onto the street. 

“You’re smart. Sure you’ll figure it out soon enough,” he answered with a lustful, little twist. Whenever he laid on that voice I felt my insides turn in the most wonderful way. It reminded me of coming home to that first, ice-cold drink after a week’s long quest. 

He turned right. We must have looked a sight, the mayor of Goodneighbor hauling around a guy three inches taller and blindfolded. There were no restraints on me, just the ghoul’s craggy hands clasped around my wrists. Another right, then another. Familiar, subterranean echoes filled my ears. The Third Rail? Really? What, was he gonna suck me off in the bathroom? Boring. Besides, he only ever did that after a mediocre trip when he was feeling horny, yet uninspired. _Horny, Yet Uninspired_ – heh! Great name for a portrait of Hancock. 

The door opened. I was waiting to hear Ham’s voice at the entrance. _“Mayor,”_ he’d say. But no one was there, or if they were, they were quiet. Hancock skipped the bathrooms and led me straight down to the bar. “Careful,” he said, making sure I didn’t trip over the long flight of stairs. Two sides of the same coin, that man: as likely to put a cap in some raider’s ass as he was to give a settler the shirt off his back. Cold, hard, unwavering; kind, loyal, and honest. What ever did that sweet, sweet man have in store for me, I wondered?

He led me through the bar, waving here and bobbing there presumably to avoid chairs or tables. I had never heard the bar that quiet before. The dulcet sounds of Magnolia were nowhere to be heard, nor was Whitechapel’s witty banter. I couldn’t hear MacCready flirting with the pretty ghouls or the clink of his beer against the counter. The only sounds were two sets of footsteps against the concrete. 

“Watch your step,” said Hancock. 

I felt around with my foot and stepped onto…the stage?

“Jesus, really? I said I wanted to get high with you, and by that, I did _not_ mean a performer’s high.”

“Cool it and siddown, will ya? I’ve got plenty in store for you, Sunshine.” 

The ghoul released my hands and walked off somewhere, leaving me to figure out what exactly he meant by ‘sit down.’ I held my hands out like an idiot and felt around until something plastic met my fingertips. Okay, a chair. A rusty, old chair. I sighed and took a seat. The thing creaked. It reminded me of those shitty, old chairs we had in elementary school, you know, the blue, plastic ones with the slats in the back. You could never find one without a wobbly leg or a scuffmark. I wondered where they all came from: the crappy chair store, maybe?

It seemed like minutes before Hancock returned when in reality it was probably about fifteen seconds. The stage made me nervous, but at least we were alone. As if on cue, somebody coughed.

“Who the hell is that?” I asked, turning my blind face toward Hancock.

“Don’t worry about it.” He snatched my ankles and set straight to work tying them to the chair legs.

“Hancock, I don’t know how I feel about this. Is it someone I know?”

“What, on, like, a personal level?”

“Is it the kid?”

“Oh no you don’t,” said a familiar voice emerging from the direction of the VIP room. “You two are crazy. I’m outta here.” I could hear the merc’s footsteps trotting across the almost-empty bar.

“MacCready!” I breathed a sigh of relief. “What’s going on out there? Where are you going?”

“Got a job in Diamond City.”

I fell silent.

“Don’t sweat it, boss. Be back tomorrow. You, uh, you enjoy your evening in.”

“Wait!”

“What?”

Hancock grabbed my arms and folded them around the back of the chair, tying them as MacCready and I bantered.

“What is Hancock doing to me? Was that you coughing?”

“Uhhh…” His feet stopped shuffling. I could almost picture his steely eyes scanning the bar. “Wasn’t me, but I’m not really at liberty to say anything, either, so.”

“Come on!” I squawked. “R.J. Bobby. My man.”

He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Oh don’t give me that ‘Bobby’ sh- er, crap! I just rent a room here. I don’t get involved in Hancock’s business unless caps are involved.”

I glared (not that anyone could see), lowered my voice, and said, “Did you pay him?”

Hancock chuckled. “He’s got nothin’ to do with this, Sunshine. You have fun over in Diamond City, MacCready. Give Mayor McDonough the finger when you see him.”

MacCready gave his usual snarky laugh and said, “My pleasure.” And just like that, he was ascending the stairs.

“At least tell me how many people are watching me!” I begged.

“Bye, boss!” said the merc, voice growing farther and farther away until I heard a distant door close. 

Hancock gave one, firm tug on each of the ropes – or whatever he was using to bind me – making sure I was good and secure. Then, he stood up, clapped his hands together, and said, “Alright, ghouls and boys, get comfortable. We’re gonna be here a while. Everyone got your drinks?” I didn’t hear a response, so they must have nodded. “Good. Now, I’m sure you’ve all seen my little vault-dweller around before. He’s a good boy, does a real good job keeping business nice and tight here in Goodneighbor.”

The mayor walked around me, footsteps slow against the stage. His fingers combed through my shaggy, brown hair, teasing my scalp. Mmm. He always did like to build me up like that, start off nice and sweet before beating me raw. God he was good. But sitting there in front of an audience was distracting. Who were they? How many were there? Hancock’s little speech implied that at least one of them was a ghoul. Daisy? Kent? Vault-Tec? Oh God please not that guy; I could just imagine him interrupting whatever performance Hancock had in mind to tell me how I was beautiful, hadn’t aged a day, blah, blah, blah…

“Well, vaultie here knows all about keeping things nice and tight,” he continued, and gave my hair a little tug. Ordinarily, I would have given him some kind of response, a moan or a heavy breath, but my stomach was in knots. I never liked being on stage. The day the bombs fell, I was supposed to give a speech. Instead of practicing, I spent all morning doing literally anything else; reading Grognak over coffee, playing with Shaun, insulting Vault-Tec. (God, I _really_ hoped it wasn’t him out there in the audience.)

“Hancock,” I whispered. He bent over, my hair still in his fist.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“I’m…I’m nervous,” I confessed. 

“Don’t you worry, I got something to calm your nerves.”

“The last time you said that, we ended up stoned in that ‘pretty cave’ you kept bragging about.”

“And now we know what a deathclaw den looks like. The more you know, right? Don’t worry. No deathclaws here. Just you, me, our eager audience, and this…” 

His hand left my hair as he rifled through his coat pocket, then, he gently clasped my jaw, squeezing until my lips parted. A small piece of plastic was pressed against me. At first I thought it was a sex toy or something. But then I realized what it was.

“You ready?” asked Hancock, and I nodded. He pumped the inhaler. I sucked down every last bit of jet as it rolled down my throat and into my lungs. I held it. Then, I exhaled, smoky mist oozing from my nose and lips.

Time seemed to slow down. I became hyper-aware of everything: the creak of the chair on that off-leg; Hancock’s rough hand scraping my jaw; his low rumble as he told me I was a _good boy, a very good boy…_; the pull of restraints against my ankles; the bite of the cold, steel chair legs; and the feeling of sharp plastic digging into my wrists from the flange lining those ovular slats in the back of the chair. The air smelled like booze and cigarettes, and memories of jazz and laughter lingered in the air.

“Oh yeahhh…” I breathed.

I was fully aware that Hancock was unfastening my belt and sliding my pants out from under me, but I didn’t care anymore. Everything was good. Super zen. Yeah. No. It was cool.

The next few minutes kind of blended together. Hancock tugged my pants around my ankles, leaving me alone, strapped to the chair in my t-shirt while he went to mingle with his guests. I heard it all. Booze pouring into a glass; low chatter; a creak in the metal somewhere; the icy chill of the air against my legs, against my cock. 

My cock. 

Wow, I was hard. I shook my head. When I did I get hard? How much time had passed? Hancock hadn’t even touched me, just plopped me down somewhere and left me to ride out the peak of my high. But there I was, rock-hard, completely put on display for everyone else.

“Hancock!” I hissed.

He was in the middle of a story. “ –aren’t so bad, they’re just oversized crabs with a little extra kick. ‘Scuse me, brother.” Hancock came back up to the stage and stood in front of me. I couldn’t see him, but I imagined his arms folded across his chest, that look in his eye that he got whenever my ass was stuck up in the air or when my legs were spread apart. “Well, well, look at you. Now ain’t that a pretty picture.”

“Hancock!” I hissed again, and this time he knelt down next to me. I jerked in the chair, completely unable to move. “What the hell did you give me?!” I could feel my length twitch of its own accord. Oh my god I was so horny.

The ghoul tittered and placed a single finger against the head of my dick. It was barely anything, but I twitched again under his touch, this time giving an involuntary, little moan. I tried desperately to wiggle my hips. “Hancock…” I breathed. No, I was _really_ horny. It was so sudden and intense, I just…

“Looks like vaultie here could use a little release, eh kids?” Someone actually clapped.

“Oh fuck you, whoever you are.”

“Heh heh heh, don’t you worry about them, baby, they’re just here to watch the show. Paid good caps, too.”

“You _sold_ me?! Like I’m some, some, some, some Goodneighbor gutter whore?!”

“Hey, our whores are people. You treat them with respect,” he warned, giving my length one big, long stroke. I tried to arch my back and turn my head, but there was no room to move. “But to answer your question, yes, you’re a whore.”

Wow. That was…actually really hot. Still, what the fuck?! I turned toward Hancock and spit into his face. Just when I thought the bar couldn’t get more silent…

“Oh, big mistake,” he growled.

Hancock let go of my dick. Suddenly, my world span, even under that blindfold of mine. His palm hit me across the face so hard I almost didn’t feel it when he spit and rubbed his irradiated saliva across my face. I tried my hardest to keep my head turned away, but Hancock was strong, and now he was angry – at least on a superficial, kinky sort of level – and he wasn’t about to let me get away with that.

“You think you can disrespect me in front of Goodneighbor?”

“N-no,” I stuttered.

“You’re goddamn right. And now I’m gonna teach you a lesson.”

“Wh-what was in those chems?!”

“You really wanna know? Then say the safeword. You remember the safeword, don’t you, whore?”

I gave a brisk nod.

“Good. And until you use it, what I do with you is none of your business. Do you understand me?”

I nodded.

**SLAP!** I groaned, head snapping in the opposite direction.

“I don’t think my friends heard you.”

“Yes, Hancock, I understand!”

**SLAP!** Another groan. Another jerk of my head.

“Yes, _what?_”

“Yes, _Mayor_ Hancock, I’m sorry Mayor Hancock,” I corrected myself. 

“There’s a good boy,” he cooed.

Nobody, and I mean _nobody_ else was allowed to touch me like that. In fact, I topped most of the time. But Hancock? That little shit was scary. Scary in a really, really good way. And there was something about the lingering buzz of the chems and the warmth and pain against my cheek that tugged at my groin. It was almost too much. He’d barely touched me and I was already on fire, hard and wanting and desperate to be touched. But I couldn’t move. I was forced to take my punishment, all in front of a live, studio audience. 

“Come here,” said Hancock. What? Who was he talking to? Another pair of footsteps approached the stage. I wondered whose they were. A man? A woman? Other? “Alright, you paid extra, so go ahead and do your thing.” Okay what now?

Somebody got close to me. They were hovering right over my lap, legs on either side of me. I could usually get a good feel for people, but being blindfolded and high was something else, let me tell you. They could have been anyone, any gender, a stranger or a friend, and I never would have known. It could have been Fahrenheit. Daisy. Kent. Anyone. I just kept hoping it wasn’t Vault-Tec. They started gyrating their hips, dancing over me, their ass barely grazing my cock. A couple people hooted and hollered. I swear to god if it _was_ Vault-Tec and I felt his ‘pack of steak knives’ grinding down on me, I was going to shitcan his ass so fast his head spun. But for now, they were a stranger, and it was my head spinning.

Their hips grazed my crotch and belly. I heard them take a drink of something. Mmm. I liked that idea. Getting buzzed and giving a stranger a lap dance. It was definitely a turn on. Actually, it was getting to be a little too much, the push and pull of their hips and the sway of their ass. I parted my lips and let out a long, sensuous moan. 

“Can I?” they whispered. Feminine, I think.

“Go ‘head. Anything beyond that is up to vaultie.”

They left my lap, and Hancock laughed aloud when I said, “No…” I didn’t mean to. I just…I was high, and horny, and really needed to come. I wanted to explode, rip my blindfold off and look at whoever was dancing on me. 

Something dropped to the stage. It sounded like fabric. Sure enough, when they straddled me again, I could feel their naked hips pressed against me. I groaned and tried to buck, eliciting low laughs from around the bar. Oh my god. How many people were there? 

“You a woman?” I asked. 

She pressed her forehead to mine and nodded, avoiding speaking. Damn. She knew what she was doing. Maybe she was someone I knew.

“You comfortable, Sunshine?” I could hear Hancock light up a smoke as he asked. “Know it’s not your usual thing.” 

“Fuck, it’s fine! Just make me come already! Feel like I’m gonna explode.” Another round of laughter. 

“Heh. You heard the man,” said Hancock. “Enjoy yourself. Spend him. The night is young.”

I heard him breath in smoke as the woman poised her soft, human hand around my cock and took every, last inch of me. It took about two seconds of rocking her hips before I was building toward orgasm. I tried to keep quiet, I really did, but those chems were something else. That, and the feeling of Hancock’s hand gripping my hair to force me to face the audience were sending me over the edge. 

I opened my mouth and what came out was a string of rugged gasps. I don’t think I had ever gotten that worked up so fast in my life. Whatever Hancock had shoved down my throat was working, because the mystery woman’s heat gripping around my dick and the mayor tugging my hair was way, way too much. 

I gritted my teeth, hoped she was on birth control, and came. My gasps turned to groans, long, frantic ones that reverberated back into my own ears as I unraveled.

I don’t think she finished and I felt kind of bad. But what could I do? I was tied there, helpless! She got up and my still-hard dick spilled back onto my lap with some of my cum. I sat there, back tight against the chair, panting while the room applauded.

“Alright, time for an encore,” said Hancock, still clutching my hair. My head was starting to ache, scalp burning like fire. I didn’t know what he was talking about until I felt a sheath of warmth envelop my messy cock. The woman clasped down on me and started to suck. 

“Whoa, too much!” I gasped, struggling and failing to move away.

“Well that’s just too damn bad,” Hancock sneered. “I never gave you permission to come, did I? If you like to come so much, then I’m gonna force you to.”

“No,” I begged, craving more.

But he didn’t listen. He just laughed and watched and extinguished his cigarette on my bare thigh. I cried out in agony, trying to toss my head back only for Hancock to snap it back forward again. The woman didn’t stop, not even for a second. Every time her tongue teased my cock, a jolt of electric overstimulation surged through my groin, roaring like thunder in my belly and down my legs. 

“Fuck! No! It’s too much!” I wailed. I could feel every bead of sweat against my brow.

“Why don’t you shut that pretty mouth of yours?” said Hancock, and just like that, another inhaler was crammed between my lips. “Inhale,” he commanded. I shut my eyes under the blindfold and did as he told me, sucking down every last ounce of chem that spilled through the slit. Once again, it was filling my throat, my lungs, all of me. 

The inhaler clattered to the floor. “Please, no…” I whined, trying to jerk my hips away. My motions became less frantic and more obsequious, swaying tiredly from side to side as her head bobbed up and down. “No, it’s too much, ahhh, mmm, please, no, please…”

Now, Hancock’s fingers were caressing me. He really did know how to help kick off a good trip. I could feel every one of his nails moving against my skin, showing me love and attention while those heavy surges pulsed through my crotch.

“Please…please…” I continued. Jesus, it was torture. Hancock’s lovely hands combed through my hair. I adored his praise, and I wanted him to know. “Yeah, please, just like that…I’ll be good, just please…”

“Gonna come again?”

“Yeah…”

**SLAP!**

I moaned and whimpered, dick straining in this stranger’s mouth. Her tongue felt so nice. So, so, so nice. And Hancock’s firm palm against my cheek was exactly what I _didn’t_ need if I was going to keep it together.

“Don’t you dare, not without my permission.”

“Please can I come? I need to come!”

“Please _what?_”

“Please, Mayor, I’ll be good, just let me come! God, PLEASE!”

I think I surprised everyone in that bar when I howled like that. My dick was unbelievably hard again, and holding back was getting to be impossible. I tried every trick in the book to hang on, picturing various horrible images, even going so far as to imagine my late wife’s face frozen against the glass of the cryo-stasis pod. But that just made me think of Nora, and her memories still made me so fucking horny whenever I got lonely…

“If you come, I’m gonna punish you.”

“J-” John. I almost called him John, like I did when we were alone and he worked me so hard I couldn’t talk straight anymore. But if I did that in front of his people, he’d beat the shit out of me. I considered doing it anyway, because honestly, I wanted to be beaten. Just the thought of Hancock shoving my face into the floor and taking me just…

“I’m sorry!” I moaned, and came a second time. And even worse, the woman didn’t let me finish in her mouth. She held my dick straight up, letting the whole bar see the cum that rocketed out of me. I could feel it dripping back down my length. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” I repeated, mind still fuzzy from the chems. I panted hard, and the woman let me go to return to the audience. They clapped again. Pure humiliation.

Hancock’s boots padded across the stage again. With each one came a twist of my gut. He was going to do something to me. God only knew what, but it was going to hurt. He must have stood there forever before he left – actually left the stage – and went to go mingle again. 

I sat there for what felt like hours, covered in cum and sweat, still uncomfortably hard. They drank and laughed while I felt my cock twitch again and moaned in response. I was so lonely that I started flexing my muscles just to get the tiniest bit of relief. But no such luck. I was in this strange, foreign place between high and sober, hard and spent. Hancock soon solved all of my problems by shoving a third goddamn inhaler of mystery-jet into my mouth. I sucked it down so fast I was almost sick. He let me stew again, trying to rock in my chair and instead feeling sad and horny.

Things started getting really fuzzy at that point. Three inhalers of jet was bad enough, but whatever stimulant was involved in producing this particular brand of jet was giving me this insatiable boner that just would not go away. Even sitting there in the chair, I was so worked up I couldn’t function. “Please, for fuck’s sake, Hancock, I need to come!”

“I’ll bet.”

“Come on!” I shouted. “You don’t know how bad it hurts! Please, just make me come. I’ll do anything!”

“I don’t hear the safe word. You giving up?”

“…”

“That’s what I thought.”

An hour. He left me there for an hour. I know, because he timed it. And whoever was out there started fucking around too. I could hear everything, the tearing-off of clothes, the sloppy kisses, the moans, the random guy announcing he was going to come…all of it. And me? I was stuck there. I didn’t even move. I just pictured those two strangers getting down to business on the bar. Every time I heard a glass move, I pictured them knocking everything off the bar and fucking like animals. Who even cared who they were or what they looked like; it must have felt so good to have that kind of freedom, sticking your dick in literally anything or anyone until you just couldn’t take it anymore. And when the guy announced he was coming, my asscheeks clenched and I came too, spilling all over the stage in long, hard spurts. 

“Damn, Sunshine, look at you…” mused Hancock, standing at my side.

I bent my head down as far as it would go and shuddered, another gush of cum dribbling out of my dick. I was hot. Aching. Sweating bullets.

“Man, you’re gonna hate this next part.”

I did. I did hate that next part. Hancock took a wand – one of those fusion-powered sex wands with the big head – and taped it to the edge of the chair. He set the vibration to high, tied my throbbing dick to it with string or tape or whothefuckcares, and left me there. I sat there, fated to endure the amalgamation of pain and overstimulation. I almost cried. 

“Come on, Mayor Hancock, stop…”

“Not a chance,” he replied.

“It hurts…”

“I bet it does. That’s what you get for coming all over the place without my permission.”

“I couldn’t hold back, I tried!”

“And now you can suffer the consequences, Sunshine. Here. Should help with the pain.” The ghoul strode around back of me. There was a sharp prick in my arm. Med-X. God damn, was he trying to kill me? But every single vibration that coursed through my crotch made me want to die, so eh, whatever.

I spent a few minutes groaning and mewling and jerking around in my seat, but soon I was trying to thrust. I couldn’t, of course, but my hips tried anyway. The Med-X sucked me into this realm of pure bliss. It coursed through my veins, quelled the lingering pain on my scalp and face, and really made me stop caring that my dick was being overworked. Now, it felt amazing. 

Every vibration ebbed at my cock like the tide of the sea, drawing me closer and closer to paradise. I licked my lips and moaned. Then I moaned again. And again. I could heard one of the patrons comment on how I was going to come all over myself and they were right. I was. And I announced it. “H-H-Hanc-c-c-cock…” 

Well, I tried, anyway.

My head bobbed forward and I let it happen, reduced to a limp mess as I rode out my next orgasm. I just knew my cum was dribbling down the wand. It was probably all over my legs. All over the floor. “It won’t stop…” I breathed. My chest felt tight and loose at the same time. Too many chems. Ugh. But I couldn’t stop; I kept releasing until I think I blacked out. 

It must have only been for a second or two. Hancock was tearing the wand off of the chair and my length was free, though still hard. God, those chems. Those fucking chems.

More time passed. How long? Seconds. Minutes. Hours maybe. Another inhaler between my lips. Whiskey down my throat. A dick in my mouth. My dick inside of someone. Their front. Their back. Wasn’t sure. Didn’t matter. Felt good. Needed to come some more.

“My turn,” said Hancock. Maybe I came in between, I didn’t really remember. But I mean, hell yeah I wanted Hancock to have a turn. I bobbed my head up, regaining some actual semblance of consciousness. I was surprised when the blindfold was pulled from my head. Even the dim lights of the Third Rail were too much. Maybe it was more the chems than it was the light, but either way I winced until my eyes could readjust. 

“Wh-where is everyone?” I asked.

“It’s 4AM, Sunshine. Last call was a while ago.”

“Psht. Third Rail doesn’t have last call.”

“It does when the mayor wants his dirty, little whore all to himself.” He slapped my face, snatching my jaw and shoving his tongue down my throat. I moaned and gladly returned the kiss. He tasted like chems and cigarettes. 

Speaking of, he opted to extinguish another cigarette on my thigh in the exact same place as before. Fuck that hurt. I bucked and yelped, eliciting a low laugh from Hancock. “Oh, baby. You and I are gonna have fun. That Pipboy of yours has a Geiger counter built in, right?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Good, ‘cause you’re about to suck down a whole lotta rads.”

It all happened so fast. Hancock cutting my hands and feet free. Forcing me into the VIP room at knifepoint. Cutting a small, sickle-shaped cut against my collarbone. Holding it to my neck and mounting me. Threatening to hurt me if I didn’t suck his dick. Sure, I played it up, struggled and begged him not to and all that, but it was an act. I wanted to suck his big, hard dick so bad it was killing me. 

He was riding my face a moment later, rugged thighs squeezing around my head. His cock was at the back of my throat. I relaxed. I don’t think I’d ever been that relaxed while giving a blowjob, and it’s not like I was any stranger to the act. But those chems made it real easy to take him nice and deep and give him the kind of attention he deserved. 

He moaned. I loved when John moaned. He was usually so quiet, going out of his way to make sure I was taken care of and finishing quietly by himself or around back of me. But not that night. Maybe he thought I wouldn’t remember the next day. Or maybe he was just really, really turned on.

“Do you know how worked up you’ve got me baby boy?” 

His thighs squeezed tighter and he fucked my throat. I gagged, clenching around him. 

“That’s right, gag on me you fucking whore. Love watching you get tortured, makes me wanna come right down your tight little throat.”

Oh my god. John. You marvelous fucking man. I couldn’t contain myself. I sucked him. Licked him. Took him as deep as he’d go until a sharp, stringent taste oozed down my throat. I gagged again, eliciting a hoarse moan from the mayor. By the time we both sat up, I realized that somewhere between the bar and the VIP room, his clothes had come off. 

My eyes traced his outline. Every crag and divot. Those sharp hips. His semi-hard dick, with just a touch of glowing, white cum at the tip. My god he was gorgeous. He was gorgeous, and I was still high, high and horny and a mess. I got onto my hands and knees and bent over. 

“Really?” he asked. “Still good to go after all that?”

“I need to come…” I moaned.

“What do we say?”

“Pleeease, John, please.”

The mayor chuckled, reached around, and started stroking me. I immediately hardened at his grasp, another orgasm building deep in my belly. 

“There, right there…”

“No.” He released me.

“No, come on!” I whined, thrusting against nothing. “I’m so fucking horny, don’t do this to me!”

**CRACK!** “Ah!” I cried. 

I guess his belt was right there on the floor somewhere, because now it was being driven across my ass over and over and over again. I grunted, abs seizing up as he beat the ever loving shit out of me. Every time the buckle clashed with my skin, my cock jumped, but the pain kept me from unloading all over MacCready’s couch. At least for now.

When he was done, he spit in his hand, reached around again, and worked me. He felt so good, the friction of his weathered hands moving up and down and up and down and up and down until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ohhh! I’m gonna come!”

**CRACK!** “No!” I pleaded, and actually wiped a tear away from my cheek. The metal stung so bad. How could he do this? I just wanted to come!

He beat me for a minute straight. I knew I would bruise. There would be welts. I’d be raw and sore and regretful the next day. But that sting was so unbearable, so fucking hot, like fire against my ass.

He spit again. My asshole clenched around two or three of his fingers and I moaned. He curled them up inside of me and started to work me. Every time he arched them, I rocked my hips forward. He was hitting my prostate and it felt so fucking good that I couldn’t even take it anymore, and I told him so, loudly, through a series of desperate and disjointed wails. “Ohhh! Can’t! I! Can’t! Can’t take it!”

He pulled his fingers out.

“Nooo! FUCK! FUCK YOU!” I spun around and I swear to god I almost clocked him. But those hard, black eyes of his stopped me. I lied there on my sore, sore ass with my legs spread, cock twitching uncontrollably.

“What do you want?” he asked, calm and cool.

“You know I fucking want to come!”

“That ain’t how we get our way, is it? Take a deep breath and try again.”

I did. I took a deep, ragged breath. “Mayor Hancock, sir, please, _please_ let me come. I need to come right now.”

John smiled. Stars twinkled in his eyes. He was so handsome, an absolute treasure.

“No.”

“FUCK YOUR FACE!”

What? What was ‘fuck your face?’ The hell did I even?

“Haha, I’m kiddin’ Sunshine. Go ahead and come.” He ruffled my hair.

“Wh- really?”

“Yeah. Let me see you flex a little.” He nodded toward my cock. I did as he asked, flexing my floor muscles. Jesus Christ, even that felt so good. Hancock’s flaccid dick was poised in his fist, and he gave himself a couple of strokes. “Mm…real pretty. Do it again.” I did. There was precum leaking out of me. Seeing it – and Hancock pumping himself – made me moan. “Keep going.” I clenched. Then I clenched again. And again, and again, and again, until I was a moaning mess, spreading my legs, grabbing my cock, and thrusting it into my firm grip.

“Oh god, oh fuck, thank you Mayor Hancock, thank you!” I moaned, clenching my jaw and spilling onto the couch between my legs. MacCready was gonna be _pissssssssed_ when he got back!

Hancock and I stumbled out of the bar. It was getting light out. Hancock did up the last button on his coat and I rubbed my sore ass. How much jet did I have? What was in it? Viagra and crack? Dayum. And how much whiskey and Med-X did I chase it all down with? A lot, judging by the way my brain wasn’t buying the whole ‘one foot goes in front of the other’ deal. If Hancock hadn’t caught me, I would have fallen over.

“Easy,” cooed the ghoul, slipping a hand around my waist. “Let’s get you back to the State House, huh?”

I nodded. I couldn’t talk, though. I could taste smoke and booze and chems at the back of my tongue and it was making me want to throw up. As Hancock and I rounded the corner, a familiar figure in a cherry red dress took a drag of her cigarette and glanced over, propped up against a brick wall.

“Night, Mags,” said Hancock.

The singer didn’t answer, just shot a wink in my direction. That wink spoke volumes.

Hancock and I continued on our way. I never remembered the State House having so many stairs before. By the time I was half way up, I had a real nice case of the spins. I was really gonna regret it if I didn’t sit down right then and there. I wouldn’t say I ‘sat’ so much as collapsed, though, dragging Hancock down on top of me. I was so out of it that I almost wondered if the blindfold was back on again. Everything was fading out from color to black, black to color. The world looked like it was melting, and every sensation felt foreign: my aching back against the jagged stairs, the mayor’s hips grinding against me…

Wait. Really? Again? 

Yes, again. “Beat it,” said the mayor, and the guards scattered. Hancock began to grind his hips down and hump me on the stairs. I was a pathetic, whimpering mess all over again, hard and achy in my pants. When would it end?

It ended in my pants, of course, and again when he bent me over the rail and penetrated me. That one actually ended all _over_ the rail. I did not envy the person tasked with cleaning that mess up in the morning. After fucking twice on the stairs, we tumbled onto his couch, tongues shoved down each other’s throats. Whatever sick feeling I had was gone, replaced with the urge to come or make him come or both. That’s the last thing I remembered before glancing down at my Pipboy.

It was after seven in the morning. The mayor’s door was shut. He was collapsed into a smiling puddle on the couch with his coat unbuttoned, hat resting against his chest. Sunlight poured through the windows, a shadow falling over his sleeping eyes. There were a couple empty beer bottles on the table, and yet another inhaler of jet. I picked it up and examined it. It looked like your standard thingy of jet, except that instead of the trigger being red, it was pink, with a tiny, little heart carved into the bottom. 

Well. Okay then.

I got to my feet and immediately regretted it. The entire room melted, walls shifting diagonally, floor slipping out from under me, and this time, it wasn’t because of the jet. It was because I was a sad, hung over mess, cross-faded on hallucinogens and narcotics and alcohol. 

“You okay?” asked a raspy voice. Hancock had one eye open, giving me this sweet, sultry smile. “Dick still attached?”

I opened my mouth to return some halfassed quip, but what came out instead was a miserable groan. I didn’t even have time to scramble to the bathroom out in the hall; I hung my head out of the closest window and retched onto the street two stories below. It. Was. _Horrible._ Worst spins I’ve ever had in my life. 

My head was hanging out that window so long that Hancock actually got up, took a bath, grabbed some Sugar Bombs, and ate breakfast while he watched me, like he was watching TV. Fucking humiliating. At some point, Fahrenheit came in. The two talked and she ignored me before leaving. Another couple of people came in and out, conducting business with the mayor while I made rude noises and defiled the side of the building.

At around eight, I stopped, finally getting around to drinking the purified water Hancock rolled my way. I crumbled against the wall under the window and panted. Outside the window, I could hear Fred Allen clapping and shouting, “Yeahhh, you only live once man!”

I looked down. Fuck damn it. I was naked. The whole time. Just…stark naked, with burns and cuts and bruises and a really, really red ass.

Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any worse, a familiar someone walked through the door. “No,” I said, shaking my head indignantly and covering my FINALLY flaccid dick with the empty bottle of water. 

“You,” said the ghoul, looking right at me with his dark eyes. “I, uh, I just wanted to say thank you, not just for the job you gave me in Sanctuary, but for last night. I always wanted to make love to another man. I was always so busy working for Vault Tec I -”

**NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!**


End file.
